


Amber Lights

by TinyPineTrees



Series: One Shots AU [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Cuddles, Fevers and colds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Sick Fic, Swearing, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyPineTrees/pseuds/TinyPineTrees
Summary: Arthur is asked to check in on Tommy, who is very feverish and sick.
Relationships: Arthur Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: One Shots AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622716
Comments: 17
Kudos: 184





	Amber Lights

  
‘Just stop in by him, for a second.’ Alfie asked, his raspy voice cracking through the phone. ‘I’m dealing with an-’

The phone cut out as an incredibly loud explosion screeched in Arthur’s ear, presumably Solomon’s bakery going up in smoke. 

“Would serve him right,” Arthur murmured, holding the phone away from his ringing ears. “The fucker’s bakery imploding.” he dropped the telephone onto the cradle and stood slowly. His knees popped loudly, echoing the recent explosions. “Has it coming, doesn’t he?” 

“If this is about Alfie,” Ada flipped down the top of her newspaper, “I don’t want to hear it. Tommy likes him, you don’t have to-”

“I don’t.” 

“Clearly, Arthur. You’re not exactly hiding it. You like Tommy though don’t you?” Ada asked, eyeing him seriously. 

“This isn’t about me liking my brother,” Arthur said quickly.

“But it is about how much you want him to be happy.” Ada snapped. “Besides he’s been sick for a few days, I’m starting to worry if he caught what Karl has.” The poor kid had been laid out for a week now, feverish and miserable. Ada had mentioned more than once how little help the doctors were being. 

“How is Karl?” Arthur asked, brushing a hand through his mustache. 

Ada sneezed and rubbed at her nose, folding the newspaper down as she dropped it onto the table. She probably caught Karl’s cold as well, being unable to keep herself from cuddling him when he coughed at night. 

“He’s alright, he’s through the worst of it, but I had to drug him to the eyeballs just to help him sleep. Which is another reason I think you should check on Tommy.” She said, leaning back. 

“You think he’s accidentally had too much cough medicine?” Arthur asked.

“Not accidentally,” Ada started. “When he doesn’t feel well, he tends to overdose.” 

“You don’t really think he’d overdose-”

Ada’s eyes snapped up to his, tilting her head and meeting him in a dead stare. 

“Fine. I’ll check in on him, but not because Solomons asked me to.” Arthur said, grabbing his coat roughly off of the chair and storming out of the kitchen. 

“Lord forbid you check on your sick brother at all!” Ada called. He heard a short cough as he slammed the door shut and braved the chilly winter air. 

  
  


\----

  
  


“Tommy!” Arthur called, shutting the front door as he stepped into their apartment. Sweltering heat sailed around him, quickly overtaking what icy air Arthur tracked in. 

Arthur tore his jacket off and dropped it onto the counter, quickly tugging frustratedly at the collar of his shirt as the heat sank into the fabric. It was too tight. It stuck uncomfortably to him, cutting into his shoulders, and tightening across his chest, making it difficult to breathe. 

His father had always congratulated him when he outgrew his clothes when he was younger. He’d tell him how proud he was of his ‘growing boy’, and show him off at the boxing ring, but young men ought to outgrow their clothes, shouldn’t they? It’s just a fact of life, and not much of an accomplishment if you have no control over it. 

Tommy certainly struggled with outgrowing his own things as well, but never to the same extent Arthur and John had. He was often the last to receive their hand-me-downs, and by then they were in such a poor state that Arthur had felt quite ashamed for him when they’d walk anywhere together. Usually he’d try and steal a sweet or two, in an attempt to cheer him up. 

He couldn’t say how much the sweets helped, Tommy had been fussy when he was young, and he was even worse now. 

Arthur was unsure how much Tommy would appreciate him seeing, or even being around him when he was sick, given that fussiness. He always had to be the impenetrable one. As though Arthur hadn’t seen him at his worst when they were growing up. 

Tilting around the couch, he moved toward the thermostat and lowered the temperature to something more reasonable. Sick or not, Tommy would be baked if he left the heat this high. 

The radiator clicked and hissed loudly, the constant stream of hot air finally slowing enough to allow the room too cool into an almost bearable temperature. He threw open a window for good measure, letting fresh air into the stuffy room. 

“Tommy?” Arthur asked quietly, peeking through the living room. 

He’d have seen Tommy by now if he was here, but it felt a bit rude wandering unannounced through his house. He eyed a thick blanket that used to belong to Polly, draped over a soft leather couch. Pillows were strewn about as well, a few packets of tablets and different bottles of cold medicine, all ranging in size and color cluttered the coffee table. Faded labels were peeling off of some of them, others looked brand new. 

A nervous twinge shot up Arthur’s spine at the sight. Ada was right, Tommy hadn’t had a backslide in a few years, but that didn’t mean his addictions had gone away, not that Arthur had any room to talk. Polly handled anything that needed a dosage for him usually, and Arthur couldn’t say he minded that too much. 

Going by what was written on the notepad next to the bottles, Tommy was high as hell on cold medicine, but if he had taken any more than that, he likely overdosed. 

Moving quickly out of the living room, he stepped over to the bedroom on the left. Solomons shouldn’t have gone to work. He must’ve known what Tommy was like when he didn’t feel good. 

Arthur stopped short, his eyes falling to a pair of shoes laying on the pale carpet in the hallway, he knew what he was like when he felt good too though, and he was still a drug addict. Arthur coughed and shook his head, whether from the thoughts or stuffiness of their still too warm apartment, he couldn’t decide.

“Tommy?” he asked again, knocking lightly on the bedroom door. “It’s Arthur, I’m coming in alright? Solomons called. He’s uh,” Arthur sniffed. “He asked me to check in on you. So, here I come.” 

He twisted the knob slowly, worried to come across his brother, maybe overdosed, maybe asleep, maybe awake and pissed that Alfie felt he needed a house call? 

The door slid too quickly, swinging wide under the weight of the robes hanging off the other side.

Soft amber light bled through the blinds, cutting thin blocks of sunlight across the bedroom. The small room was cooler than the living room, but only barely. It was still too stuffy. Dust floated through the bright pockets of light, suspended in the still air. 

Tommy wasn’t hard to find. 

It didn’t look like he’d overdosed at all, there wasn’t even a medicine bottle within reach. A mountain of blankets had been kicked to one side of the bed, and he was bundled into a dark red sweater and curled around a sweaty looking pillow, huffing noisily as he tried to breathe through a stuffy nose.

“You’re fucking fine,” Arthur said happily, a giddy smile creeping up from below his mustache. “All this worrying, and you’re fine!” he threw his hands in the air and kicked lightly at a pair of trousers. 

Arthur had only been in this room once before, when John had been shot and their apartment was the closest safe place they’d had, but it had been far cleaner then. Arthur couldn’t really fault either Solomons or Tommy for the state of it now. A still mostly full mug of something, presumably tea, and tissues littered the bedside table. A bucket had been dropped on the floor close enough for Tommy to reach if he needed. 

“Ada had me worried, you know?” Arthur said, running a hand over his mustache. “Saying all sorts-”

Tommy coughed, and croaked out something that may have been his name. He sounded like he’d swallowed razor blades. A sliver of his glassy blue eyes peeked out from behind his eyelashes as he tried to find Arthur. 

“Just checking-”

Tommy sneezed loudly, drowning out Arthur’s words as he struggled to hold his head up and push himself up out of bed. 

“Tommy, it’s not-no, stay in bed,” Arthur began quickly, leaning down awkwardly as he tried to nudge him back onto the sheets. Tommy stoutly ignored his attempts to put him back to bed, choosing instead to grab onto his shirt and use it to tug himself weakly upwards.

“Why are you home?” Tommy asked, curling his fingers tightly into the fabric. “You promised to go to work. It’s a fuck’n fever, ’m fine, I can help myself.” 

“No-yeah, you’re right, you don’t need any help Tom,” Arthur agreed. “But lie back down again, alright? And I’ll uhm, I’ll grab some-some,” he stopped short, panicking as he tried to come up with some kind of reward. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, making his shirt stick to him again. He was awful at this, Ada should’ve checked in on him, but she was sick herself. 

“Alfie,” Tommy said, shivering as he tugged Arthur closer still and buried his face into his shirt. His sweaty forehead blazed, feeling hot enough to cook Arthur’s insides. “’m cold.” 

Arthur nodded quickly, ignoring the jolt of annoyance at being called that arsehole’s name, and glanced at the pile of blankets on the edge of the bed. Tommy was always cold, whether he was wearing a heavy jacket or it was the middle of summer. The room was already hot though, would more heat just make him sicker?

“Cold? No, I think it’s hot in here. Doesn’t it feel hard to breathe?” Arthur asked, still trying to gently push Tommy down. He shouldn’t have been so loud earlier, he knew how lightly Tommy slept. Drugged or not, he was a concerningly light sleeper, but what would put him back to bed? Arthur wasn’t about to give him anymore cough medicine, he didn’t want to be responsible for creating the overdose he was sent here to check for. 

He looked too small, swallowed in his sweater. He never looked this small in his coat, even without it, he usually seemed bigger than himself. Personality made him appear much bigger as well. Tommy could make himself look twice his size with a glare and a cigarette. He didn’t have any cigarettes at the moment though, just his sweater. 

Who even bought that for him? Solomons must have, but probably for himself, because Tommy never wore red. Arthur had tried to give him an old red jacket once, but he’d made some snippy comment about the color and thrown it back at him. 

“Yeah, uhm, you’ve got some blankets here-” 

Tommy hummed in disagreement, shaking his head and slowly dragging his face up to stare at Arthur. A serious look in his shiny eyes. 

“I can turn the radiator back on? It was really fucking hot when I came in though. Still feels hard to breathe, probably shouldn’t-probably makes it harder to breathe, especially with a cold,” Arthur tried, stumbling over his words. “Did Alfie leave it like that? Radiators can explode if they’re too hot, can’t they? Definitely could kill someone acciden-” 

“What?” Tommy asked, tilting his head up. “Did ‘Alfie’ leave-” he paused, his eyes tracking over his hands, up to his mustache and over nose, never quite looking him in the eye. 

“Tommy?” Arthur asked, his hands closing slightly over Tommy’s shoulders. He really was too hot. John had a fever like this once when they were little, and Freddie had as well, and he’d died from his. Solomons must’ve had a tub somewhere, if Tommy got any warmer, he might need to cool down quickly. 

“You’re not Alfie.” Tommy’s voice wavered, his eyes widening concerningly as he loosened the iron grip on his shirt. He shuddered as he pulled away from Arthur and slid jerkily backwards on the bed. 

“No, I’m Arthur,” Arthur said, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed as Tommy’s eyes grew larger still, and darted around the room. “Just checking in, Solo-Alfie,” he corrected himself, a pit growing in his stomach as Tommy’s eyes turned duller by the second, rapidly losing touch with reality. “Alfie asked me to check in.”

Tommy shook his head fiercely, and a painful sounding whine whistled from his throat. 

“No. Arthur wouldn’t.” Tommy’s shoulders trembled as he hit the back of the headboard, and his arms looped protectively around his knees. “Arthur wouldn’t listen to Alfie.” he said tucking his head into his knees. His fingers wound into his hair, pulling his bangs low over his eyes. 

“That’s not,” Arthur began, feeling very off footed. He didn’t know how to handle this, Tommy hadn’t balled himself up like this since before the war. He’d certainly never fallen apart like this before. “That’s not true, Tommy.” 

Tommy ignored him. His fearful eyes blinked out from behind the curtain of dark hair and darted erratically around the room, seeing things Arthur would never be able to see and murmuring fearfully about collapsed tunnels. 

Shell shock. Arthur’s heart clenched as he stared blankly for a moment, unable to grasp the concept as his little brother shuddered. Tommy had shell shock. 

“Tom-Tommy,” Arthur said, his voice dropping as he slid fully onto the bed. They’d been home for a few years, and Tommy hadn’t let it show until now. “It’s just, just shell shock.” What did Tommy and John say to him when he lost it and couldn’t focus? 

His knees slid across the damp sheets. Why the hell had Solomons agreed to let Tommy stay home alone? Arthur moaned quietly to himself. Tommy probably hadn’t let him disagree. 

Fuck that, when the fuck had Alfie Solomons agreed to do what someone else wanted? He listened to Tommy though, he must have, or else Arthur wouldn’t be in this fucking situation. So Solomons did actually listen, and he could agree, he was just fucking stupid. 

Tommy’s whine broke through his thoughts, his eyes closing tightly as his hands wound over the top of his head. Arthur’s heart clenched again as he dove forward, firmly tugging Tommy’s arms away from his head. 

“It’s not real,” Arthur pulled him away from the headboard. “You’re fine, it’s just shock” he whispered, tucking him into his arms. Tommy breathed frantically as he twisted and struggled to get away, “You’re just sick in the head, I know the feeling.” he said, getting a solid grip on him and holding tightly against his chest. A pathetic whine cut at Arthur as Tommy struggled, and his arms trembled weakly from what little strength he had. “It doesn’t feel good, but you’re going to be alright.” 

“The tunnel’s collapsing,” Tommy moaned into his chest, puffing hotly as he struggled to breathe. “There’s no air, Alfie, I can’t breathe” he repeated, his voice going breathy and high as he tried to get away. 

“I know,” Arthur said, searching his memories frantically for anything helpful. He didn’t know what to do. Arthur hadn’t dealt with this type of reaction since Danny, but even then Danny was far more violent. He’d throw himself at people, seeing enemies everywhere, they could hold him down long enough for him to realize he wasn’t in France, but that he was home. Tommy wasn’t on a battlefield though, he was in a tunnel. How do you get someone out of a tunnel that didn’t exist?

The radiator rattled in the living room, echoing through the small house. Tommy shivered harder and peeked up from Arthur’s chest, eyeing the faded paint on the ceiling as though it was about to fall down upon their heads. 

“Tommy, we’re going to make a short trip, alright?” Arthur said, tucking him even closer. Moving him at all seemed to be better than staying here, and the living room would be much less stuffy. 

Tommy shook his head wildly, his eyes darting back to Arthur as he jostled him in a firm grip and pulled him fully into Arthur’s lap. One arm stole beneath Tommy’s knees as Arthur heaved them both up quickly.

Tommy clutched tightly at him and his eyes snapped shut as they rocked forward precariously, and Arthur nearly dropped him. 

“Just going out into the living room. There aren’t any tunnels there, and there’s a lot of air!” Arthur said, stepping around clothes and tissues, leaving the small room behind. 

The living room was remarkably cooler since he’d turned the radiator off. He sank heavily onto the couch, still holding tightly to Tommy as he grabbed Polly’s old quilt, and bundled it quickly around Tommy. 

“There, see?” Arthur asked, rubbing the blanket warmly up Tommy’s shoulders. “No tunnels, fresh uhm, fresh air,” he stuttered as he pointed toward the window and a cool breeze drifted past them, crisp and wintery.

Tommy nodded drowsily and coughed. The glassy, manic look in his eyes dulling as he breathed a little deeper than he had in the bedroom. He glanced around seeming to deem it far safer as his panic disappeared almost as quickly as it had been brought on. 

“Well, good. Good, yeah, this is much better.” Arthur nodded as well, eyeing Tommy closely as he shivered under the blanket. 

“Still c’ld.” Tommy said, pushing closer into Arthur’s chest. 

“Still cold, I hear you,” Arthur said, wrapping his arms warmly around his brother, feeling him growing heavier as he relaxed. “Why don’t you try shutting your eyes, and I’ll see what I can do about it, alright?” he asked, trying to disentangle himself slowly. 

Tommy nodded, his eyes having shut before Arthur even finished the sentence. He curled neatly around Arthur, looping his arms around his waist like he had in the bedroom, only this time far more relaxed. Arthur tilted downward, still trying to pull himself out of Tommy’s arms as he angled himself toward the edge of the couch. 

“Thank you for coming home,” Tommy whispered into his shoulder, before his breathing slowed further. 

Arthur paused, his hands stuttering in midair before slowly wrapping back around Tommy. He could probably stay a few more minutes. Just until Tommy fell well and truly asleep. 

  
  


\----

  
  


“Feeling a little better then, eh?” Solomons’ voice whispered gently through Arthur’s dreams, tinting them with his annoying voice. He was just shy of too warm, but that was solved when the heat was lifted off of him quickly. “Going to have to watch myself around Arthur now, won’t I? You know, for all his attitude, he’s not the worst,” Solomons’ voice drifted off then, allowing Arthur to go back to his blissful nap. 

He couldn’t remember why Solomons voice would be in his dreams, although there were a few times he’d dreamt of him. They were mostly violent dreams, often involving goats. 

Someone tapped his shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. Blinking his eyes open, he found Solomons, half leaning over him in a dirty work shirt. 

“Oh, you,” Arthur gruffed, feeling a suspicious tingle at the back of his throat. He looked down, still feeling heat from where Tommy had been asleep, Solomons must’ve picked him up and taken him back into the bedroom. “Well, I checked on him, he’s alright.”

Solomons hummed in agreement, and glanced back towards the bedroom. The living room was remarkably darker than it had been when Arthur came over, they must’ve slept longer than he’d intended. 

“Right, yeah, thank you.” Alfie said, clapping his hands together and stepping back, giving Arthur some room to get up. “I’m glad you stopped by, I’ll have to find some way to repay the favor.”

“Actually,” Arthur paused, coughing slightly as he felt the tingle grow the more he spoke. “Don’t worry about it, just don’t go to work tomorrow, alright? Despite what Tommy might say.” Arthur said, rubbing a hand through his hair. 

Alfie nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Arthur slowly stumbled through the house and grabbed his coat. 

“Thank you, Arthur.” 

He waved his hand goodbye and stepped out into the chilly evening. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I learned a lot about radiators while writing this! Also ceiling fans, but that didn’t feature. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a comment below if you did, they make my days impossibly bright.


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